It Was Best Not To Think About It
by A Horde of Axolotls
Summary: Erik has finally achieved his dream of becoming an adventurer, and is taken under the wing of a mercenary named Adalina. However, the Nord very quickly realizes that maybe being a mercenary isn't so great, especially with his reluctance to kill. / Rated T for violence.


Erik shifted his pack on his shoulder and lifted his free hand over his eyes to block out the harsh, cold sun of Skyrim. His steel armor clicked softly as he marched on beside the woman next to him. He decided that the silence had dragged on for long enough and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"How close are we, Adalina?"

"Serpent's Bluff Redoubt shouldn't be too far from here." Adalina gave a rather un-ladylike snort and ran a hand through her thick, raven black hair. She looked down at the Jarl's bounty letter in her scarred, calloused hands. "I just hope that this _maladetto_ contract was worth it in the first place. Bandit camps aren't very fun to be in."

Erik sighed and nodded in agreement; he had seen one from a distance, and from the looks alone he had quickly decided that that was certainly not a life he could ever be a part of. Not that he had ever wanted to be a bandit anyway. Adventuring was certainly where his heart was at, and he was lucky to have gotten here in the first place, given how green and, well… _unskilled_ he was in the art of war. It had taken Adalina months to train him into the able warrior he was today, and many of those training sessions had been _while_ they were travelling. The redheaded giant never considered the idea of learning on the go, but he had not been decapitated yet, so he figured that the style of teaching was definitely working for him. He silently thanked the gods for the hundredth time that he was able to rescue her from that ditch, where she lay bleeding and torn from a sabrecat, that one Mid-Year day.

They continued on once more in silence as the winds of Frostfall whipped against them. While Erik was perfectly comfortable in the cold weather, Adalina was not. While muscular, she was incredibly thin, and therefore could not keep an ounce of warmth to her name. He glanced over at her and bit back a snicker when he saw her shivering. She caught his glance and glared back at him, causing him to release the laugh as he shook his head.

"What made you think living in Skyrim was a good idea if you can't handle the cold, huh?"

"Erik, shut up before I tear your throat out."

He laughed again, about to disobey her direct order before Adalina suddenly froze, her head jerking up as if she was searching for something. Erik quickly halted, almost crashing into her (he was such a klutz sometimes), before she grabbed his arm and yanked him down into the undergrowth. In surprise, he opened his mouth to question her only to have her clap her hand over his mouth. She was looking out at the cobblestone road in front of them with a furrowed brow, which they had not set foot on since they left Falkreath. One of the things Adalina had quickly established was that, according to her, it was safer to travel off the roads. Not completely off, she had quickly backtracked when he had given her a confused look, but off enough that bandits and the like probably would not see them. While they had not run into anything in the forests and they had not seen anything on the roads, it seemed that her advice had some merit. Erik's hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword at his belt when he saw at least five bandits dragging along a cart. One held the reins of the horse pulling the unsteady vehicle along, two walked alongside, and two sat inside the rickety wooden carrier. All five of them laughed and taunted each other as they went along, completely unaware of the reckoning they would face in the coming moments. Adalina mused softly under her breath.

"Well, they're headed right where we're going…"

Her hand's movement to the ebony bow on her back gave Erik the answer to his unasked question.

The bandits did not even know what hit them: both Erik and Adalina slowly and silently snuck up on them and exploded from the brush beside them. Three arrows found their mark and two bandits fell right off the bat before a short swordfight ensued. With Adalina's speed and ruthlessness and Erik's strength and wide swings, despite his clumsiness, the remaining bandits were made short work of.

However, as Erik yanked his bloodied steel battle-axe out of the back of the final thief, he clenched his jaw to try and quash the sick feeling washing over him. Gods above, he was no milk-drinker, but he certainly was not comfortable with taking another man's life, bandits or not. Wolves or sabrecats in Rorikstead were one thing, but a man who had a life was another. He knew that the moment he had stepped into mercenary work with Adalina meant that he would most definitely be given bounties and contracts to kill other men and women that the contractors would want out of their hair, but he still could not shake the sick feeling coiling in his gut.

He stood there motionless for a few moments before he heard Adalina gruffly mutter behind him, "It's best not to think about it, Erik."

The redheaded Nord snapped out of his reverie and shrugged, turning around and looking back at her. "I know, but it's… still hard."

She glanced up at him from where she kneeled by the body of the first bandit to fall, trying to pull the steel arrow out of his shoulder. With a sigh, the woman leaned back on her haunches and spoke a little more softly this time. "Aye, but these men here are criminals. The jarl himself wants them dead." When she saw that her friend was not convinced, she shook her head and went right back to tugging at the arrow. "And look at it this way: these men probably killed innocent people travelling the roads without a thought. We're doing Markarth and anyone who goes through the Reach a favor."

Erik ran a hand through his fiery red hair, still keeping his mouth clenched shut. In an act of out-of-character kindness – it seemed that way to Erik, anyway – Adalina told him to just stand nearby and keep watch in case a pack of wolves or some other beast sniffed out the carrion and decided to pay a visit. He stood stiffly at the edge of the road, the battle-axe clutched tightly in his somewhat bloody hands, doing his best to not let his eyes stray towards where Adalina was finishing up ridding the bodies of whatever valuables they had. After about five minutes more or so, Adalina stood up and began walking back towards Serpent's Bluff Redoubt, which was faintly visible in the distance at this point. Erik took a slow breath before following after her, his battle-axe now resting upon his back.

The bandit camp was not incredibly large upon closer inspection. It contained about three ramshackle buildings, shoddy wooden bastions and a tent or two. Erik quickly followed Adalina down behind a rock and the two peered at the couple of bandits stationed atop a small, unstable-looking tower. Her ebony bow was already in her hands, and Erik reluctantly pulled out his own hunting bow in turn. The woman watched the bandits with narrowed eyes before speaking lowly to Erik, "I'll take out the two _bastardi_ on the tower." She pointed at another conveniently located rock about ten feet to the left of them. "You go over there and shoot the one at the entrance. _Capisci?"_

Erik blinked in confusion at the foreign language, as he usually did. Adalina stared at him for a moment before sighing in frustration, remembering that she the only one of her own people in Skyrim. "Do you understand?"

"Oh. A-Aye, I-aye."

Erik dashed over to the other rock, and took up his position. The bow's frame creaked when he nocked the steel arrow to the string, pulling the feathered end to his cheek. While his aim was not the best, the bandit standing casually at the wide open entrance to the camp was fortunately rather close. How he had not noticed Erik there was beyond the redheaded Nord, but he snapped into action when he heard a short cry from the tower. The thief at the gate jerked his head up from its downwards position and looked up at where his comrade had just fallen, and in that instant Erik let the arrow fly.

The missile missed its mark. He swore under his breath and tuned out the swearing coming from Adalina to the right; he would certainly get an earful about that missed shot later. Already his mentor was charging forward, steel swords swinging and tearing open the belly of the bandit guarding front. It was only when she turned and roared at him, "ERIK!" that he realized he had not moved. Stumbling to his feet and racing towards her, he dropped his bow and clumsily pulled out his battle-axe, nearly dropping that as well. He sprinted up the beaten pathway and leapt into the camp. Adalina was already battling two bandits, ducking and stabbing at them with an odd gracefulness. In the next moment, Erik found himself narrowly avoiding the thrust of one of the outlaw's iron sword. He instinctively roared and fell prey to the battle haze that so consumed him and his kin.

He still did not like killing men, but the thrill of battle was something he could not escape the pleasure of, red haze covering his vision and all. The blood roared in his ears and adrenaline pumped through his veins as he dug his battle-axe into one man and then the next without cease. Battle was the guilty pleasure for the Nordic kind, it seemed, and there was no understanding it. There was only feeding the haze more and more, separating limb from body, painting the green Skyrim grass red with blood and filling the air with battle cries and bellows…

And just like that it was over. His broad chest heaved under the somewhat restricting steel armor, and sweat dripped from his brow down into his eyes and beard. He stood there motionless, allowing the haze to fade from his vision and his heart to slow. Talos help him, the thrill of killing always managed to make him feel so alive and yet so guilty afterwards.

The redheaded Nord wearily glanced over his shoulder to look at Adalina, who was already bent down by one of the bodies, although she had not started removing gold or arrows from the man yet. Instead, she was inspecting his left hand with an oddly melancholy look on her face. Curious, Erik walked over before quickly stopping with a slight flash of light from the man's hand blinded him for a moment. He blinked away the after-burn and looked once more, only to have guilt and a cold sadness settle into his stomach.

The man was married.

Hundreds of thoughts and images flashed through Erik's mind. Mara preserve him, the man was _married?_ He'd recognize the Bond of Matrimony anywhere, but it still seemed odd to him that the bandit was wed. However, it only reminded him that even criminals had outside lives. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and knelt down by the slack-jawed bandit, his brown eyes glazed and staring into nothingness. Where was the man's wife now? Did he have children? Did they even know that he was participating in this activity in the first place? Was it the only job the man could get to support those he loved most? Jobs were not necessarily too hard to find in his homeland – one could go and chop a few logs, be paid enough gold to somewhat get by and call it a day. Maybe the man had not been so lucky.

Erik ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He muttered an oath under his breath before Adalina spoke flatly, "This one made the wrong choice joining this group of thieving _canaglie_ in the first place. Don't blame yourself." When he did not reply, she sighed deeply and said with a soft tone, "It's hard, I know. It's stupid. Only a monster enjoys killing, bandits or not. But we're still helping people by taking out these outlaws."

Erik took a breath before responding, once again trying to speak around the lump in his throat. "Right. We're helping Markarth."

"Aye."

With that, Adalina dropped the man's hand and started about business, her face once more reduced to a stony, emotionless façade. This time, however, Erik forced himself to help her, splitting the work between them. By the time they had left the camp, blood still drying on their weapons, armor and hands, Erik had managed to tune out the clawing tendrils of guilt that threaded to his mind. Adalina was right.

It was best not to think about it.

* * *

 **Well, this isn't really that great. At all. Rushed ending, trashy everything. I don't know, I've started to get back into Skyrim, so I wanted to write something about my favorite follower, Erik the Slayer!**

 **Seriously, I love that guy so much, but I feel like he really would NOT be all that comfortable with all the mercenary work I basically put him and Adalina through lololololol**

 **Speaking of Adalina, she's my OC. Oddly enough, not a Skyrim OC, but one that somehow ends up in Skyrim nonetheless. And yes, if you used Google Translate like I did, she's Italian. It's a long story.**

 **EDIT: Just fixed some typos and a couple of inconsistencies. Also edited the Italian because an actual Italian helped me out, yaaay :D**

 **Anyway, Skyrim (c) Bethesda**

 **Adalina (c) me :D**


End file.
